Thanks! Walt Sommers <[email protected]> wrote: Here is a copy of the original post by Randy.
-----Original Message----- From: [email protected] [mailto:[email protected]] On Behalf Of [email protected] Sent: Saturday, August 12, 2006 4:10 PM To: [email protected] Subject: Re: [Phono-L] The Elusive Edison Victrola Many years ago, I read an ad in a small, local trading paper for an "Edison Experimental Model Victrola." I did some pondering, and decided that the machine must be an Edison Laboratory Model of some kind. I went to look at the machine, and found an oak Edison C-250 that was full of records, most of which were in their original sleeves. The machine also had a number of accessories, (record duster, 78 adapter, grease jar, etc.) There was a complete Edison record drawer file, with the titles of the records contained in the machine listed in the original owner's hand. There was a also a second, complete record file set, with the heavy, white cardboard sheet on which one was supposed to list the records in the machine, and another full set of dividers. The owner was the grandson of the original owners. The phonograph came out of a resort ballroom in the mountains of Pennsylvania. The machine had seen better days. The ignorant/thoughtless descendant of the original owners had stored the machine in a cinder-block garage for a number of years. The original casters were broken. This caused the heavy, record-filled machine to warp and sag. The record cabinet door wouldn't even close, when the machine was leveled. The grille was in tatters, but the very last layer of veneer, in the front of the grille was still there. The owner wanted $600 for the machine. I could not stand to see a Lab Model lost forever, and offered him $300. The price I offered was still too high, but I was determined to save the machine. The owner wisely accepted my offer. I brought the beast home with the help of a friend, and began to assess what I had. I found a book of Edison's favorite recordings stuck between some records, and a few other tidbits. I replaced the casters with some incorrect, but functional ones, and watched the cabinet wobble from wheel to wheel, like a drunk. My house was not air conditioned, so I decided to make the same Virginia humidity which had damaged the cabinet work for me. I pushed the rocking machine into an unused corner of a spare room. Then, I put strips of felt between the top of the cabinet and the bottom of the lid. Next, I covered the lid with a heavy towel. I then placed a piece of 1/4-inch thick plywood that was roughly the same size as the top of the lid on the towel, and centered it. On top of the plywood, I placed four 25 pound bar-bell weights on the lid, and left the machine to settle. While I waited, I carefully cut new backing pieces for the grille, and glued them into place. I stained the back of the grille, until it was hard to see the repairs, unless one knew they had been made. I waited, and waited. I removed the weights occasionally, to check the cabinet, and then replaced them. After three years, the cabinet settled onto its replacement casters. Elated, I grabbed the door to the record cabinet, which I had removed for reasons I can't recall, and screwed it into place. The door would not close. I had not realized that the door was misshapen too. It no longer fit the newly leveled machine. I considered using a skill saw. I also considered planing the door, until it fit. I finally sighed in resignation, and dug around for sheets of heavy cardboard. I wedged pieces of cardboard from a shipping box into the places where the door and the cabinet made contact. When I was sure I had all of the deformed areas properly pried into place, I carefully, but forcefully banged on the door with my fist, until it closed with a grunt. I waited, and waited. After several more years, the door began to close more easily, but it still needed a nudge or two, especially during our damp months. I kept the machine' door wedged into place with chinks of folded paper, and cardboard for probably five years, altogether. After almost ten years, all of the machine's cabinet parts lined up. There was a slight rise in the middle of the record cabinet door, but this was hard to see without a straight edge. A local dealer/collector, who was a friend, watched this process with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. When he finally saw the machine, sitting all nice and pretty on a level floor, he said, "How much do you want for it?" I laughed and said, "You're crazy! No one is going to pay me for all of the time, sweat, and cussing I put into that machine." He said, "I'll give you $500." I said, "Sold." So much for "Edison Victrolas." Randy Minor _______________________________________________ Phono-L mailing list [email protected] Phono-L Archive http://phono-l.oldcrank.org/archive/ Support Phono-L http://www.cafepress.com/oldcrank -- No virus found in this incoming message. Checked by AVG Free Edition. Version: 7.1.405 / Virus Database: 268.10.9/417 - Release Date: 8/11/2006 _______________________________________________ Phono-L mailing list [email protected] Phono-L Archive http://phono-l.oldcrank.org/archive/ Support Phono-L http://www.cafepress.com/oldcrank
